It's a Pretty Good Life
by Doyle-sb4
Summary: AU Not Fade Away. Cordy and Doyle have one last day before they face off against the Circle.


Title: It's A Pretty Good Life  
Author: Hathaway (switching pennames for a change since writing Doyle under the name Doyle is too confusing for words)  
Pairing: Cordelia/Doyle  
Rating: PG  
Notes: For **illmantrim**. She wanted an AU with Doyle and Cordy surviving until Not Fade Away. Naturally this kind of AU involves a ton of changes to the existing timeline, both major and subtle, which I dealt with by ignoring them completely and going for the schmoop.

She hugged Wes and Gunn as they left, hard enough that she was sure she cracked at least one rib each. Not because she bought into Angel's thing about none of them walking away from this. God, no. They'd come through all these years and a ton of big fights together, hadn't they? More or less intact, and that thought made her bite her lip and squeeze Wes tighter.

They'd get through this. Cordelia just - wanted to be sure that her guys knew how much they meant to her. That was all. 

Lorne was already gone, quiet and down like she'd never seen him. "Take care of yourself, babydoll," he'd told her, his arms around her and gone so quickly it was like hugging empty air. 

And then there were three. Her, Doyle, and Angel, the original Angel Investigations, standing around in Spike's gross little apartment and trying not to look like they were saying goodbye.

Doyle cleared his throat. "Well… guess we'll be going, then. See about having that good day."

"If you so much as _think_ the words 'dog track', Allen Francis Doyle, you can find out how good a day you can have in the emergency room."

"She knows me too well, this woman," Doyle grinned. "How'd you ever let me hook up with her, man?"

"Can't save everyone," Angel said, the corner of his mouth lifting, and Cordy couldn't keep up pretending to be mad at him. It wasn't like she'd ever been much of an actress.

"Go see Connor," she told him, holding him for a long moment before she stepped back, swiping at her eyes. 

"Yeah," Doyle said, stepping up to hug him too - good, Cordy thought, if he'd gone for the macho handshake she would have had to kill him just for being a moron. "Give the kid our best."

"You too," he said, and Cordelia was confused until he realized he was saying, "You two…"

"We know," she said. "We've been there since the beginning, you love us, you couldn't imagine being here without us." She nodded, pasting on a smile. "Angel, we're okay. Go spend time with your son. And then we can save the world, again."

That just left the question of what she and Doyle were going to do with their day off. Spending it in their apartment screwing like catnipped weasels, that was the obvious option, and that was where they were headed; but they took the long route, past the ocean.

People were eating cotton candy, soaking up the sun, standing in line to ride the ferris wheel. People, everywhere, having fun and enjoying the May sunshine with no clue that tonight it could all end.

Of course, it wouldn't. Thousand year apocalypse, master plan in motion, yada yada yada; the Black Thorn could crush them all like bugs tonight and tomorrow the beach would be just as crowded, just as happy.

She didn't know if that made it worse or better.

"Did you ever think about getting married?" Doyle asked, out of the blue.

"Sure," she said - was that sheer terror in her boyfriend's eyes, and was the hand clasped in hers getting sweaty? She did believe it was - "Too bad Lorne never did get me that part with Colin Farrell."

She laughed at how put out Doyle looked.

"Married to me," he said, and she had to give him credit, his voice didn't even shake.

Maybe a little bit.

They'd been slowing down and now they stopped. Cordy dropped his hand and leaned back against the pier, Doyle and the sea in front of her. "Are you trying to ask me something?" she teased. "Possibly something that traditionally involves you getting on one knee and me getting some really expensive finger-jewellery?"

"Here, now," he said, hands up as if to ward away the scary thoughts. "We've only been going out for five years, let's not be hasty."

Said the man who'd married his first wife about eight seconds after the first hello. "Relax," Cordelia said, comfortably closing her eyes against the sun. "Even if I was clinically insane enough to want to become Mrs. Cordelia Chase-Doyle, there's no time to get to Vegas and back before tonight and, gee, our wedding just wouldn't be classy unless it was performed by some guy dressed as Elvis."

"There is nothing on God's green earth that's unclassy about getting married by Elvis," Doyle protested, probably regretting the night when he had drunkenly revealed the plans for his ideal wedding.

Patterns of light danced across her closed eyelids. The light disappeared, eclipsed, and she smiled as Doyle kissed her. Five years ago she would have thought this familiarity would turn to dullsville; showed what she'd known.

When she opened her eyes, readjusted to the bright light, he looked the same as always. Short, skinny, showing off that ability of his to look scruffy in any outfit and grow five o'clock shadow at eleven in the morning. No spikes, but she'd seen his demon face enough times that she could draw on his skin exactly where they'd been.

"That face looks like there's deep thinking going on," he said. "And I hope it's not working out how you can bag Colin Farrell's millions. I've heard the stories about him."

"Most of them from Lorne." She tucked her arm through his, drawing him away down the pier. "God, remember meeting Lorne's family?"

"Princess, my only memory of Pylea's what's-his-name, the Groosalug, telling me how me and him were meant to comshuk each other."

"That would have been bad."

"Too right."

"Pylea didn't even have digital cameras."

"If we're going down that road, how about last year? You throwing yourself at Angel…"

"Oh, please. We were seventeen. Anyway, if you and 'Liam' hadn't been so busy ganging up on Wes…"

By the time they reached the sidewalk she'd whacked him on the arm twice and they were all but holding each other up against fits of laughter. She hadn't laughed like that in a long time. Not since before Fred died.

But it was a sunny day and they had it to themselves. Tonight they had to take down the Circle, but that was hours away, and they'd pulled off impossible missions before. And tomorrow there'd still be the beach, and the pier, and a bunch of Elvis impersonators in Vegas.

And that was more than good enough.


End file.
